


of pink curtains and spilled tea

by Die_Melodie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Fix-It of Sorts, K/L is not endgame, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Platonic Kissing, Platonic Sex, Post-Canon, everyone is ooc because that's what s8 left us with, just to make things clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 23:32:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17069291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Die_Melodie/pseuds/Die_Melodie
Summary: Keith’s first kiss happens when he is: 23 years old, drunk, and crying. In separation, none of these things are exactly surprising: he’d imagined them all, in those moments when he allowed himself to imagine it at all. What he never imagined was that this first kiss would be with Lance, or that it would happen after they’d just watched Shiro marry someone else.





	of pink curtains and spilled tea

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first offering to the fandom, it's a bit of a mess and I have no excuse. Hi all?
> 
> UPD: Thank you guys for the amazing response! OMG I'm happy
> 
> A version in Russian is available here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/7793623

Keith’s first kiss happens when he is: 23 years old, drunk, and crying. In separation, none of these things are exactly surprising: he’d imagined them all, in those moments when he allowed himself to imagine it at all. What he never imagined was that this first kiss would be with Lance, or that it would happen after they’d just watched Shiro marry someone else.

He’s never imagined it, but here they are: buzzed on champagne, bumping noses and clinging to each other with a little too much desperation. Keith thinks Lance is crying, too. He doesn’t want to open his eyes to check.

“You’re an idiot, Mullet,” Lance murmurs as soon as they break apart. He’s leaning his forehead against Keith’s, and the words come out gentler than anything they’ve ever said to each other.

Keith doesn’t answer. He’s too busy trying not to shake apart.

***

The thing is: we never know how much time we’ll get to spend with the ones we love. Lance knows it, and bears the marks to remember. Pidge and Matt know it when they yell at each other, then come back to ruffle each other’s hair and laugh. Once upon a time, Keith used to know it as well. Used to drift to Shiro’s side, time after time, a little bit closer with every step, or so he thought. Then Shiro said, “So, I, uh, I met someone.” and Keith’s entire world rotated on its axis only to come back crooked and wrong.

There have been numerous times, since, when Keith has thought he should have said more, done more, but the thing is: he’d been so sure he was already doing it all. He’d never made a secret of his heart, not with Shiro.

Once upon a time, he’d thought they were headed in the same direction at a pace that was comfortable for both.

***

The first kiss becomes a second and a third. Keith is not sure why he keeps doing it, except for the fact that there is a void inside of him in the distinct shape of a person: a friend and a lover and a brother in arms, and if he squints and tilts his head just right, Lance fits.

His home is where Keith goes to in between missions. Lying on the grass with Kosmo happily bouncing around, watching the sky and talking about everything and nothing at all becomes a new tradition. Sometimes, they end up cuddled up under a blanket, trading slow kisses with no real heat in them. It’s the closest to another human being he’s been in what feels like ages, and sometimes Keith thinks that maybe, just maybe it can be enough.

But it never is.

The fourth time, Hunk catches them, and the way his face lights up in utter delight after the initial shock feels like a knife twisted in his guts.

Hunk tears up a little, and hugs them both until their bones crack, and Keith can’t look him in the eye for fear of giving away the truth: that there is nothing to be happy about.

***

Shiro calls him soon after. They haven’t talked for two months, and the first thing out of his mouth is, “Hey. Hunk told me something, so I just wanted to say congratulations. Or, knowing the two of you, perhaps I should offer my condolences?”

The joke falls flat. Then even flatter when Shiro seems to have realized what he’s just said.

“Oh, shit, sorry. I haven’t thought that through, have I?”

“It’s okay,” Keith says, hearing his own voice as if at a distance. “No one grieves forever.”

***

The curtains and tablecloths and bedsheets in Lance’s house are pink. Keith doesn’t know how to ask if it’s a simple homage to Allura or if it’s because pink is the Altean color of mourning. Most probably, he thinks, it’s both.

They talk about her, sometimes. Always as a close friend they lost touch with, never as someone who is dead, gone from this world. During those conversations, Lance doesn’t sound sad, only wistful and still so very, very loving.

They don’t talk about Shiro at all, like he’s the one whose name cannot be brought up for fear of opening floodgates of grief.

Pink curtains notwithstanding, getting over it seems to be the one race between them that Lance is winning.

***

The next time (Keith lost count long ago), he presses Lance into the pink sheets and kisses him, full of teeth, and strips them both naked with focused, single-minded determination. He still doesn’t quite know why he’s doing it, except that there is something burning underneath his skin and behind his eyes, and he needs to drive it away.

“Do it,” he forces out, as if he’s not the one who’s holding Lance down with his full strength. “Please, I want to feel it, I want–“

“Shhhhh,” Lance breathes out, and tugs him down to kiss him ever so gently.

The way he touches Keith feels all wrong, but Keith squeezes his eyes shut and holds on to him, until the burning grows into pleasure and he can’t remember why it felt wrong in the first place.

Afterwards, Lance says: “Look, Keith. If you want me to be the, the weapon you use to punish yourself, or something, I can’t be it. I’m just not that sort of a guy. I’m not gonna hurt you, even if you think that’s what you want, or deserve, or – look, I can’t believe I even have to say this. You really need to talk to him.”

Keith doesn’t argue. He turns over, facing away from Lance, and mutters: “What good would it do?” He’s feeling bone-tired and sticky all over and so, so hopeless.

“I don’t know, clear the air?” He hears Lance sigh. “You can’t spend the rest of your life tied to this one unresolved conflict that’s weighing you down. You need to break free, Keith. If it takes giving Shiro a piece of your mind, then do it.”

“He’s married,” Keith says. Even now, the words send a wave of nausea through him.

“So? If your confession turns out to be enough to make him break it off, then I say good riddance for the dude. If it’s not, Shiro’s going to get over it. It won’t hurt him as much as it’s hurting you, trust me. Or,” Lance adds meaningfully, “as much as having his best friend drop off the radars with no explanation.”

Keith hasn’t considered that even once, so focused he’s been on his own pain all this time.

“I thought –“

“What, that Shiro can’t keep track of more than one person at a time? I’m sorry, but you _are_ stupid, dude. That’s not how it works.”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut and buries his head in the pillow.

“Hey, Lance?” he says, after they’ve been lying in silence for a couple minutes.

“Hmmmm?”

“Why is your home so pink?”

“Honestly?” there is a smile in Lance’s voice. “I guess I’ve come to love the color.”

***

He meets Shiro on neutral territory: a coffeeshop that neither of them visited before. Shiro greets him warmly, but there is a tangible distance between them that was never here before. Keith wonders if he was the one to invite it after all.

“How’s –“ his voice catches. He physically can’t say the name. “How’s things?”

“Things are okay,” Shiro sounds just as awkward. “I have my hands full with this new class I’m teaching, but it’s been great, I’m not complaining. How are the Blades doing?”

“They are all right,” Keith says on automaton. He didn’t know Shiro was back to teaching. He had no idea what Shiro had been doing at all, actually.

Shiro nods. His metal hand is wrapped around a cup of tea, dwarfing it until it looks like an item from a child’s tea party set. Keith’s heart squeezes painfully as a wave of hopeless, helpless affection washes over him at the sight.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice is as soft around his name as ever. “If I’ve done something, said something to push you away –“

“I was in love with you,” Keith blurts out, and Shiro spills his tea all over the tablecloth.

***

It’s almost funny, the wide-eyed shock on Shiro’s face. Like he somehow managed to miss what Keith had been screaming at him every day, every breathing moment.

“In love with me? But –“ Shiro cuts himself off, runs his human hand over his flushed face before swallowing, hard. “You _were_?”

“I am.” With every word, he feels a little bit lighter. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, was it? “I don’t know how not to be. That’s why I need time. You didn’t push me away, Shiro: _I_ pushed myself away. There was no other way.”

Shiro’s eyes meet his. There is a deep line between his eyebrows, and Keith’s fingers still itch to reach out and smooth it away. Shiro looks pained, and despite everything he hates being the one to have caused it.

“What about Lance?”

He shrugs, looks away. “Lance knows.”

There is a minute of silence, during which Shiro picks up a paper napkin and starts mopping up the spilled tea. Keith watches him quietly, until he can’t take it any longer.

“You had to have known. Everyone knew. I told you that I loved you!”

“You called me your brother,” Shiro says quietly, not looking up from the table.

“I -“ Keith stops. “Yes. I did.”

There is nothing more to say, until Shiro raises his head to meet his eyes again. He’s got the commander look on his face: mind fully made up in the face of danger.

“Keith. I am sorry for hurting you. And I am not sure if what I’m going to say will make it better or worse, but you deserve to know that –“ there is an unexpected catch in his voice, but Shiro takes a deep breath and pushes on, “-it wasn’t unrequited. For what it’s worth, I was in love with you too.”

It feels like ground has dropped out from beneath his feet, and he’s spinning through space, freefalling.

“You _were_?” he repeats, an echo of Shiro’s earlier question to him, barely louder than a whisper.

Opposite from him, Shiro is silent.

***

“So, what happens now?” Lance is watching him out of the corner of his eye, absent-mindedly scratching Kosmo behind the ear. Above their heads, the sun is setting, and there is a crisp bite to the air. The winter is approaching.

“I’m leaving for a while,” Keith says, turning his gaze towards the sky. He leaves every time, but this time seems different. “Will you be all right?”

Lance does not answer immediately, but when he does, he sounds sure. “Yeah. Yes. Will you?”

“I don’t know,” Keith says frankly. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He doesn’t know why it only hurts more, not less, or if it will ever stop hurting. “I’ll try.”

He closes his eyes when Lance draws him into a hug, and lets himself sink into it.

***

It’s already spring by the time he’s back on Earth. By the time Shiro calls him and says: “Keith. There is something you need to know”, and “You asked me something, last time”, and “I am. I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> me: how dead am I going to be if I post a fic with both sk and kl?  
> me: doesn't matter, we're all dead inside anyways, amirite?


End file.
